This morning, I sat with coffee. Soon after, I told Max that I’d get dressed for a walk. And, this is what happened. (The LOOK ON HIS FACE!)
While I was downstairs, digging out the next pair of track pants, I tucked away a Christmas box in the closet and came upon my sketchbook…1968-1972. Oh my goodness! I propped myself up on my bed and took a look and all sorts of memories came up. For one, at some point, my sister signed every one of my drawings. She was just a wee little girl and she must have held me in some sort of esteem…or, the drawings. As I think about my former Junior High art students, I think these sketches are very rudimentary. There’s nothing at all impressive about them. What’s with the solid contour lines? They look like colouring book drawings. Hmmm….f
I wrote little poems along the way…sentimental poems…what were they about? I guess I’ve always been a dreamer. Sketches and thoughts from 52 years ago…
So my trip down the rabbit hole began. And Max, patiently waited.
The Westmount Independent, a local paper in a Montreal suburb, ran a wee article on Tuesday, seeking out a boy in this photograph.
It turns out that a friend of one of the Walls boys, might just be the candidate! She is taking the article to Mr. Walls, who is reported as in good health, to view the image today and will get back to me. :0) I’m pretty happy that we may have made a connection here. Stay tuned!
Continuing on with my collection of writing by Timothy Findley, two nights ago, I completed The Wars. This novel really spoke to me, given my recent research about my Great Grandfather, John Moors who lost his life in Etaples. Robert Ross, the protagonist, takes the reader through a more-than-real experience of the front in World War I. I like that from the beginning, the story is pulled out of a box of archives…photos, journals and letters that would have been kept over many years. The reader returns to these bits of nostalgia throughout the narrative and finally, at the end. (Always good stuff for someone who adores memorabilia.) I also adore the use of references to the visual arts, art history, music and literature and Findley does this very well, especially I find, in this novel. This was, for me, a page-turner and I felt huge empathy for the soldiers and the animals in this beautiful and yet, horrific book. The Stay-At-Home-Bookworm writes,
“You go down the steps to the hold of the S.S. Massanabie with Ross and smell the stench of hundreds of horses kept frightened in their own filth, with not a single porthole opened for fresh air, you see the only light provided by an oil lamp and feel the heaving of the ship. Your own revulsion is indistinguishable from the boy’s as he is required for the first time in his life to kill a living being, a horse that has fallen and broken his leg, and you see the white of the horse’s eyes as he stares with confusion and pain at his murderer.”